It seemed many others had the same idea we had... either that or we poorly underestimated the popularity of the hotel's dining experience. Either way, it was difficult to find a restaurant that didn't require a reservation or had space for us to walk in and be seated. After a few attempts and many names left, Jason and I finally settled on Nick's, a Caribbean take on American cuisine that had one spot available. We took it; I texted Chelsea, and we made the note that tomorrow we would preemptively make a reservation. Especially if the incoming storm would be apt to keep more people indoors.

Jason and I sat at the small table while we waited for Chelsea to arrive, and as I looked around, I was grateful for the more casual outfit I chose. The decor was blatantly Americana, almost too much, with jukeboxes, old cars, and American flags filling almost every empty space along the wall. Even the menus resembled a late 60s diner, even when the food options were limited to burgers and rum drinks.

I glanced at Jason as he distracted himself with the menu. For the moment it was just the two of us at the table, surrounded by an otherwise crowded restaurant with enough din to drown out our conversation.

The perfect opportunity to make small talk.

"So what have you been up to?" I asked as I folded my hands on the table in front of me.

He glanced at me over the top of his menu, his brown hair falling into his eyes. "The same thing I was doing five minutes ago?"

I gave him a glare. "I meant these past few years. Since we last talked."

He watched me for a moment as if debating if this was a conversation he wanted to be a part of. When he decided to put down the menu and fold his own hands before him, I made a mental check mark on my side of our scoreboard.

"Tech. I'm a software engineer. It was the most basic thing I could decide on that I knew I would be good at, and I didn't need to go very far to learn it."

"So you stayed home?"

He frowned. "Not everyone gets the chance to just up and leave the past behind. And the job allows me the freedom to go where I want, if I want, so it evens out in the end."

I mirrored his frown. "I'm sorry.... that you felt like you were left behind."

"Is that all?"

"Is there more?"

His intense gaze held mine. "You really don't know what happened, do you?"

My brows furrowed as the effort to maintain eye contact twisted my stomach. "You make it seem like there's more I should be remembering."

He answered with a scoff, finally breaking our stare to shake his head. "It explains how she was able to convince you to come..."

"She didn't convince me of anything. She asked, and I agreed. What's so wrong with needing a Caribbean vacation?"

"It's not the where or the why. It's the who."

"What does that mean? Look, if you think I wouldn't have said yes if I knew you were going to be here—"

Jason had stopped paying attention to me. Instead, his attention drifted over my shoulder. "We'll talk about it later," he muttered under his breath.

I was about to challenge him, demanding we talk about this now instead of continuing to delay the inevitable, when the scent of lilacs infiltrated my senses and Chelsea took one of the empty seats between us.

"When I said let's go to the Caribbean, this is not what I had in mind," she said as she smoothed out the skirt of the maxi halter dress she wore.

"Next time you can make the dinner reservations," Jason murmured as he once again picked up his menu, a clear sign he was, indeed, done talking to me.

But there remained too many unanswered questions and something inside of me didn't want to wait until later to ask him, whenever it would be. So I turned my attention to Chelsea.

"Why are we taking this trip?" I asked without prompting.

Her confusion was clear as she looked between Jason and me. "Look, I know this isn't my ideal dinner menu either, and I had no control over the storm coming in, but—"

"She means why take the trip now," Jason intervened. "Specifically with the two of us."

She blinked at him. "I'm sorry if I wanted to take a vacation with two of my closest friends," she said defensively. "Last I checked, no one held a knife to your throat to make you say yes."

Something darkened in Jason's eyes as he glanced up at her; something unsaid passed between them, and that twisting in my gut turned tighter. Only then did I realize that while I may have been away, doing my own thing and moving on with my own life, these two continued to interact, to socialize and share their lives now in a way I wasn't a part of.

Maybe the issue wasn't Jason coming with us, but me forcing my way back in on them.

I was only aware of the glimpses of their life together, the ones Chelsea casually let slip whether by accident or because she wanted me to know what was going on. Because I never asked.

Regardless of Chelsea's invitation, I now felt like the unwanted, uninvited third wheel.

The realization had me looking down, focusing not even on the menu but my manicured nails, bright pink in preparation for the Caribbean vacation. I barely noticed when the server came over to our table to ask for our order. Hardly remembered mumbling out my order before I excused myself from the table. I felt both sets of eyes on me as I wove through the restaurant, walking straight through the lobby and out onto the boardwalk that wove its way past the pools towards the beach.

I needed fresh air, and there was plenty of it. The sun had fully disappeared below the horizon and the cloud cover had settled above us. The winds we felt earlier seemed to have died down some than what we felt earlier on the beach—the calm before the storm. I took off my sandals before I stepped foot on the beach, the sand soft between my toes as I looked out at the crashing tropical waves.

I shouldn't have asked Chelsea why she wanted us together on a vacation without realizing first why I wanted to be on this vacation.

I told Chelsea it was because I was due for a vacation. I was working hard and hadn't really allowed myself to take one. But when she told me Jason would join us, I should have balked. Should have, but didn't. Because even though he may have written me out, there was still a part of me that missed him, and selfishly wished he felt the same way. That maybe if given the time together he could feel it too if he wasn't already. But nothing I have done since we arrived deserved such treatment, so I don't know why I expected anything else. Especially when she was so adamant against answering my questions...

Almost as if summoned, I sensed Jason before he stepped up beside me. Silent at first, his attention also on the waves, but his body was warm as it neared, and I kept myself from leaning closer against him.

A minute of silence passed before he asked, "Will you walk with me?"

I glanced up at him and he was already looking at me. I nodded.

Tentatively he intertwined his fingers with mine, his hand as warm as his body had felt as our palms touched, and he led me further down the beach.

"She thinks you went to the bathroom," he said a minute later as we continued walking. "And went to look for you there. But I watched you walk away."

I remained silent, lips pursed.

"I know... it's been a while. And I know it's partially my fault. But a lot has happened since we were last together, Sam, and I need to make sure you aren't caught off your guard."

Still unsure what to say, I glanced at him from the corner of my eye, waiting for him to continue on.

"I'm not saying we've been lying to you. Or if there's deceit involved, but..." Jason shook his head. "If we could do it all over, start over from the beginning, I'd give anything."

I swallowed. "Where... would you want to start?"

His pace slowed to a stop, and he turned to me, taking my other hand in his as he faced me fully. "I promised myself when I saw you again, I wouldn't fall into the same trap as I did before."

His voice was hoarse and I could barely find my own. He was closer than he had been and definitely closer than I could have remembered us ever being before. But I didn't try to back away, didn't want to leave his hold. "And now?" I breathed, meeting his gaze.

"And now... it's been taking every last bit of my willpower to keep from hugging you in that airport, from pouncing on you in that bed, from..." His throat bobbed as his gaze dropped to my lips. "From kissing you right now."

"What's stopping you right now?" I asked just loud enough for him to hear me over the sounds of the crashing ocean waves at our feet.

"Because if I kiss you now, I won't want to stop."

I felt every part of me flutter like the wind flitting through my hair.

"And this time, when I kiss you," he continued, "I want you to want to kiss me back."

Something jagged shot through me, from my brain to my heart to my stomach. Flashes of a scene of us standing just like this in an unfamiliar room. But where there was once expectancy was instead surprise, where there was hope only pain. We had put ourselves in this position before, and I had hurt him. Horribly.

His grip on my hands tightened as if he knew what I was thinking, as if he was remembering it too. How could I have...

"Samantha!"

We both turned at the sound of my name, to the shadowed figure of Chelsea standing on the wooden boardwalk, hands on her hips like an aggravated parent finding a child that had wandered off.

"But before I kiss you," he said again, this time almost a whisper so only I could hear him, "you need to know the truth."

"What truth?" I asked, finally looking up at him.

But his attention remained on Chelsea. "Ask her about Tony Marino."

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Open Novella Contest 8K Milestone
Word Count: 8,040